


dark honey

by rosewilts



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 20:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18351281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewilts/pseuds/rosewilts
Summary: love is a kind of killing. don’t you know that?





	dark honey

"Five, why the fuck are we here?"

It's 1942 nazi-occupied France, twenty two minutes and thirty seven seconds after the apocalypse-induced time jump that caused the Hargreeves 7 to end up here, in the Nazi clad streets, dancing and hiding through the menacing shadows of decayed buildings and parched, slouched soldiers during the dry spring winds of a corrupt Paris. Landing here in the middle of what will futuristicly be known as the great war of espionage, of all the possible of fucking timelines, all seven of the Hargreeves, six - now in the flesh and with a thriving beating heart - included, dips past stray bullets, and tries not to get caught by the nazi stained government and their cruel, unthinking rifles. However, despite the displeased protests, questions and groans of his friable siblings as they follow his lead and weave behind shadows, Five, fatigued and disgruntled, soldiers on.

He knows why he is here.

He knows why his subconscious thought of this lonely, cold, fascist place over every single safe possibility in the history of the universe. He knows why he chose the armed tanks over Dolores' safety, over the logical choice of the year he and his siblings were born. Over the years that he and the Hargreeces were alive and content, hearts naive yet alive and true and loving and full of possibility.

Five knows why his subconscious chose this timeline. Why, in the last moments of the Earth as we know it, in his moment of absolute desperation, in his need to help the only people in his life he could ever love, he chose right here, right now.  He chose this place. He knows why he thought of this place over everything.

It's time he pays the first (and only) person he failed to kill a long awaited visit.

The first person in the timeline whose assassination, if he succeeded, would have caused the end of the world.

Luckily, he wasn't successful.  
  
"Well, are you deaf or what old man? Afraid you'll have to admit that you've made a mistake?"

Five grunts, obviously annoyed at Diego's unwanted comment, snapping back to reality, ducking behind the wood of the day old blood clad fence, a hair shy away from catching the soldier on duty's attention. Still unpleasantly stuck in his thirteen year old form, Five stuffs his shaking hands into the pockets of the school boy shorts he loathes as much as his adoptive father, as much as he hates the fact that he has to them again, after all these years apart, after abandoning them - hurt and betrayed and crying in his 50 year old self's arms- in their time of need, in the time they, a rogue spy, needed to be saved from the murderous hands of Nazi soldiers. Of whom he left them to be consumed by.

Swallowing the concoction of anxiety, rage and guilt that threatens to consume him at the thought of such reunion, Five's heart thrums in the hallow of his chest. He keeps returning to the same thought as he continues to guide his siblings through patrolled streets of central Paris: would they ever forgive him?  _Have_  they forgiven him? How much time has passed since he left them to go back into the arms of the people who abused them? For him, it's been eight years. For them? He doesn't know. 

He doesn't want to know.

He, as a fellow pawn and victim of the higher order, hopes they are dead.   
It would be the only way they could escape from a life of running.

In this moment, he hopes a god above has given them, the person who briefly in this time made him feel normal mercy. He hopes someone at the commission somehow managed to outsmart and kill them fast. Figured out how to cheat their oh-so clever mind as the commissioner chased them through the narrow streets of Paris they know so well just to kill them quick, despite his own multiple failures to do so.  He hopes whoever the commission sent would have not fallen for the abundance of humaness in the iris of their unwavering eyes, the richness of their sincerity, the cockiness of their smile, the tender, fleeting touch of their fingers to their cheek and a silent whisper in their ear that  _i know you want out too, and i can help you, i want to help you, so just listen to me, okay?_ just like he did, and didn't hesitate to pull the trigger, just like he did.

However, as he and his siblings climb the crumbling brick walls of a 1940s Paris he finds so familiar, weaving through the hallow back alleys like diseased rats, he knows his hopes are futile. He knows that if they, such a timid, weak appearing spy managed to outsmart _him_ , all those years ago, how such a mortal spy managed to cheat death and smile in his face so confident that the number one killer in the world would never hurt him, not even on Dolores' life, no one else - not even the british, chinese, russian and american spies thrown at them, not even the commission's best soldiers would have been able to pierce their silver bullet through their already scarred flesh. They were too smart for the apocalypse's own good.

And, perhaps if Luther had not betrayed Vanya, if Vanya had not met Harold Jenkins, and if, Five contemplates, he would have arrived in the future sooner, the un-assassination of the russian-turned-rogue spy who secretly changed world war two for the better, their death would have been the only cause of the apocalypse. 

However, as Five leads the siblings up the flight of the four staircases of a chipped peach oak wood staircase of the apartment building, halting just outside the baby pink drabbed double door entrance of the apartment he knows all too well, Five feels as if he cannot do this anymore. His fingers, still stuffed in the blue cotton of his school boy uniform, itch nervously at the fabric until it forces the material to cave until all he can feel is his thumb nail gnawing at the raw flesh of his thigh. He knows if they are still living here, it could not have been less than six months since his betrayal, and the guilt and anticipation licks his throat raw.

It isn't until Klaus speaks and arouses him from the abyss of his thoughts and Ben places a worried hand on his shoulders does Five realise just how long he and the others have been standing outside of fheir door.

"So -- _uhhh_ \-- little baby Five, is there a certain reason why we've been standing outside these lovely pink doors or are we just going to wait here until Vanya here wakes up and goes all Godzilla on us before you tell us why we're here in what, _correct me if my sober ass is wrong_ , looks like Nazi occupied Paris instead of the safety of the - I don't know - years we were actually alive? To - _y'know_ \- save the world from impending doom that literally happened minutes ago or did I just imagine that?"

The siblings all hum in agreement.

Despite the fear that had previously consumed him seconds ago, an overwhelming sense of spite fuels his being as he turns to face him, his famous  _shit eating_ smile baring crown over all else. Hands still in pockets, he cocks his head towards the double doors, tone of voice dripping in malevolence.

"For your  _information_ Klaus, if  _any_ of you had a working brain cell between the six of you, you would have figured out that the person who lies behind these doors is the _only_  person in the history of the _entire_ timeline who has the capability of  _stopping_ the apocalypse from ever happening."  He scowls intently, feeling the stares of doubt from his siblings boring into his flesh, as if he hadn't of risked his entire ass into getting them all to the safest possibility he could think of. As much as he hates to admit it, being here in front of the doors he'd hoped he'd never see again (let alone the person) he knows what he has to say in order to convince them to trust them, something he has never said in his entire life.

His voice is barely above a whisper, small yet delicate, the memory of them fresh in his mind, but it's enough that his siblings hear his pride cutting through the rarity of his warmth:

"The person who lives behind these doors is smart. Perhaps.... the only person who will ever be smarter than me. _Barely,_ at times. _Sometimes! ....._ But I trust them. Completely. Utterly. _With all my heart._ I swear on your lives ---- I swear on Dolores' life."

Ben, whose voice is hesitant, slow and nerving, chimes in: "....But?"

Five drops his shoulders at Ben's single world, swallows down the disgust that devours his organs raw, and swears that Ben knows everyone better than they know themselves. He knows you could never truly hide anything from Ben. 

 _Fuck,_ Five's frail image shakes with guilt, with the memory of their dying,  _begging_ figure in his arms, pleading for him to  _don't_ _leave me, please, don't make me go back to them, old man! five, don't leave me here with them, you know what they'll do to me!,_  if only just a little.

Choking back the bile, Five continues, staring at the twenty-something year old carpet of the apartment complex.

" _But,_ I tried to kill them. Twice. And then, after years, we trusted each other more than I nor Dolores has ever trusted anyone else, and I'm sure they felt the same.  _I even left Mr Pennycrumb with them._   Then.....  _then_ in the height of our trust, I willingly left them to die, _horribly, sadistically,_  to the hands of their.... agency to save all of you." Five clears his throat, gaze unwilling to meet any of his siblings. He can practically hear Klaus' expressed mortification, Allison's disgust, Diego's disappointment. Ben merely shakes his head, withdrawing the comfort of his palm from Five's shoulders. "Unfortunately for us, they survived. Yet, fortunately for the future, they... survived."  _Of course they did,_ he thinks,  _Dolores always said they would. I always knew they would._ "The only question here is," he draws a sharp breath in, gazing towards the heavy weight those pink doors hide, and his chest aches at the thought, at the regret, at the answer to the question he dreads. "In order for them to help us, they need to forgive me. But have they?"

The doors jolt open.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Synopsis - let me know what you think of this fic and if I should continue this or not! I'm still unsure whether it should be a Klaus, Ben, Diego or anyone else for that matter love interest fic, so if you have an opinion, hmu!!


End file.
